I’m pretty sure if I reference the subject of death in the title or first few lines here, the majority of readers will – understandably – cast aside in favour of something more palatable. I admit, this would have been my reaction until some months ago. But observing ageing parents, a family bereavement, people I know with scary diagnoses, death anniversaries, a conversation with a friend….all confronting an awareness that this isn’t an easy topic for me. And goodness knows, as a therapeutic-coach, it’s one I need to be comfortable with. I know I’m not alone in such discomfort and it’s a big problem because as we know, other than taxes, it’s absolutely inevitable. Some sooner, some later, but we are for sure all going to depart this mortal plane.
So I attended a workshop with people who know much more about this than me, and by the end of it I was surprised to be able to use the challenging death words much more easily. We tend to use euphemisms like passed on, passed away, losing someone dear, and so on. Passed, where? Lost, how? All somehow sanitising that which is unpalatable to most of us. There was a reading list which I then ignored. That was enough. Then browsing at the bookstore a few weeks later a book jumped off the shelf into my hands (does that happen to other people?), I was intrigued and have been buried in it ever since (oh dear, no pun intended. A little gallows humour, we do that too).
Dr. Kathryn Mannix studied and practiced palliative medicine for many years, specialising in working with those who have incurable, advanced illnesses. I found myself approaching her material as if I was viewing something upsetting on screen through my fingers rather than facing it head on. Her anecdotes are crafted so beautifully and sensitively that it became a compelling read. Some palliative care team members describe themselves as a different kind of midwife, ushering the end rather than the beginning, with such sensitivity. I have been amazed at the delicate approach described in the book, the language used, how soothing such an environment can be for the family witnessing the departure of a loved one. Well, death of a loved one, let’s be clear. They’re not departing on a train. Another of those euphemisms.
It’s the kind of book I believe we would all benefit from reading: With the End in Mind: Dying, Death and Wisdom in an Age of Denial. There’s the salient word “denial.” The author describes one particular patient who remained upbeat and in denial to the very end. That was their personal safety strategy and way of navigating the world which didn’t change, even in the face of death. It was incredibly hard for the family: everyone ignoring the veritable elephant in the middle of the room. At the other end of the scale she describes people who want to be in charge of how they die, who’s there, who isn’t, whether they have music and massage or not those things. The author also offers moments to “pause for thought” throughout the book, an opportunity to stop and consider how we might want to engage with death, our own or others. It really is an excellent resource, one I highly recommend.
Dr. Mannix’s book Listen: How to find the Words for Tender Conversations is next on my list. She’s a master at “making friends with people who are making friends with death” and has demonstrated her remarkable skill in With the End in Mind, so I’m looking forward to more of her wisdom.
I will close with grateful thanks to all those dedicating their lives to providing palliative care and hospice support, I consider them angels (and hope to have one when – not if – my time comes).